


Pinky Promises

by gigiree, takethembystorm



Series: Tea Break [47]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, eh, i mean they are the driving forces in this thing, should i add in ladynoir and adrienette, we'll see how i think about it later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 03:56:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9699422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gigiree/pseuds/gigiree, https://archiveofourown.org/users/takethembystorm/pseuds/takethembystorm
Summary: Chat Noir pays a visit to Marinette on Valentine's night, and finds her in a rather unfortunate state.  In the process of comforting her, a few promises are made.





	1. A Failure to Communicate

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](http://thebirdfromthemoon-art.tumblr.com/post/157200675322/happy-valentines-day-aaaah-the-perfect-amount).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chat meets up with Marinette on Valentine's night to see how her attempt at confessing went.
> 
> Not much better than his, as it turns out.

“So, how’d it go?”

“Whadda ya think?” Marinette slurs.

Chat glances at the rubbish-strewn terrace, filled mostly with scattered, empty cartons of bargain-bin ice cream and, ah, yes, that explains the smell coming off of her, a distinctly empty bottle of wine, with another open one beside it in the process of being emptied.

“You are a mean drunk,” he comments as she steps carefully down from the railing.  He bends down and starts collecting empty cartons, stacking them neatly off to the side.  “Three, four, how much ice cream did you _have_ , Princess?”

He’s interrupted by the sound of sniffling.  He looks up and is hit full-force with Marinette’s pout.

“You,” she sniffles, as Chat tries to resist the urge to hug her and wrap her in blankets and get her a flask of hot cocoa, “you really think I’m mean?”

“No,” Chat says.  “No, no no, I didn’t mean it like that, Princess, I swear, I didn’t.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Princess, yes.”  He places the small stack of empty cartons off to the side and crouches in front of Marinette, gently taking both of her hands in his own.

“You really don’t think I’m mean?”

“Yes, Princess.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, Princess.”

“Pinky promise?”  She offers the digit, a smear of chocolate ice cream across a knuckle.

Chat smiles in what he hopes is a reassuring manner and links pinkies with her.  “Pinky promise.“

Marinette throws her hands in the air, smacking him in the ear on the way up.  “Yay!” she says.  “Come on, sit with me, help me drown my sorrows.”

She’d been doing that more than adequately, Chat thinks.

Chat sighs and sits next to her, accepting a spoon and a bucket of confiture de lait ice cream.  He pops it open as Marinette scrapes out the last bit of ice cream from her own carton and sticks her spoon in her mouth.

“I take it mystery boy shot you down then?” he says.

Marinette holds up a finger to him in a “moment please” gesture as she washes down the ice cream with a swig of wine.

“Nah,” she says.  “I didn’t even manage to get it to him.  Real funny, right?  Dumb girl like me, can’t even give her crush a dumb little box of macarons on Valentine’s.”

Chat takes the bottle from her hand as she makes to take another swig.  “I think you’ve had enough for tonight, Princess, and no, I don’t think you’re dumb.”

“Come on,” Marinette says, reaching unsteadily for the bottle as Chat plays keepaway, “what else wouldya call— _gimmeeeee_ —a girl who can’t even talk to him nine times outta ten.”

“Someone who doesn’t want to face rejection,” Chat says.  Marinette gives up trying to take back the wine bottle and slumps dejectedly across his lap.  “Nothing wrong with that, Princess.”

“Oh, come on,” Marinette says, rolling so that she’s looking up at him.  “At some point y’gotta call—” she giggles and boops Chat on the nose “—a cat a cat, righ?”

“You do,” Chat agrees.  He sets the bottle behind him and takes a scoop of ice cream.  “Would you call me dumb then?”

Marinette goes wide-eyed.  “No,” she says.  “No, you’re not dumb, Kitty, you’re not dumb, I never said that did I ever say that?”

“You’ve never said that.”  Chat takes another scoop.  “But hey, at least you got to the point where you were going to actually give something to your Valentine.  Me, well.”  He sighs, and drowns his sorrow with another scoop of ice cream.  “I haven’t even been able to tell her how I feel.  I think that you are farther along than I am, Princess.  So if you are dumb, then I am dumber.”

He grins at her.  “We make a good pair, eh?”

“Imma punch them,” Marinette says.

“What?”

“F’r being stupid,” Marinette says.  “Any girl would want you, you’re wonderful.”

“She doesn’t, I think,” Chat says.  “Got her heart set on someone else.”

“Aw,” Marinette says.  She reaches up and squeezes Chat in a brief hug as he takes another scoop of ice cream, smearing it over her cheek and part of her blouse and dropping the rest of it down the front of Chat’s suit.  “Poor Kitty.”

“I’m fine,” Chat says, brushing away the rapidly-melting blob of sugary goodness and licking his hand clean.  He reaches back with his other hand, takes the wine bottle back from Marinette as she protests, and sets it to the side.  “Really, I am.”

“How’zis, then,” Marinette says.  “At this rate neither of us ar’gonna get the people we want.  The, the beautiful, beautiful people we want.”

“Yes?”

“If you’re single,” she says, “and I’m single by the time we’re thirty, let’s get married.”

“Uh, what?”

“We’ll get, uh, what’s that word Nino uses.”  Marinette scrunches up her nose, crosses her arms across her chest, and scowls ferociously in concentration.  “Bros?  Bro-married.  Yeah, we’ll get bro-married.”

Chat blinks at her.  “Uh,” he says, after his brain has taken the words, run them through Google Translate, decided that the site was useless, went to the local university and hijacked the language department and a few cryptographers, and finally come back with a rough approximation of what she was talking about.  “I—why?”

Marinette beams at him.  “So you won’t be alone,” she says.  “And so I won’t be an old cat lady with like, a dozen cats that’ll eat my face off when I die alone and friendless in some old stinky apartment someplace.”

Chat blinks at her again.  “Uh,” he says again.  “Oh, what the hell, fine, but make it thirty-five.”

“Deal!”  Marinette offers her hand, pinky outstretched.  “Pinky promise?”

“Pinky promise,” Chat says, locking digits with her.


	2. Remembered Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fast-forward ten years, and the two of them are still meeting up every Valentine's to commiserate.
> 
> This year will be different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by my amazing, talented, and amazingly talented friend [gigiree](gigiree.tumblr.com/)!

Time creeps up on them unexpectedly and quietly. They rest within that heart aching little dynamic of there’s for nearly a decade.

These are feelings that are difficult too extricate from their lives, emotions that have laced roots through their marrow and left them unable to move forward.

Marinette and Chat Noir commiserate once a year. (Officially on Valentine’s day. Unofficially at least twice a month.)

“You know, that deadline is coming up soon.” She says quietly, sloshing her cheap wine in her glittery pink plastic cup.

She leans a little more heavily, a little more meaningfully, on his shoulder.

He’s warm and February is always cold, and it doesn’t help that she’s just finished another three cartons of ice cream.

Chat merely sighs, lightly grasping onto her free hand and threading his fingers through hers.

“That sounds like things didn’t work out with you and Comic book Artist Man?”

She laughs bitterly. She seems to contemplate the proper response, before settling her expression into one of suspicious neutrality.

“He was so sweet. But I just…I couldn’t lead him on. So both he and Mystery Boy are out of my reach for entirely different reasons.”

Chat nods his head. His eyes glint with empathy, and something else not entirely concrete.

(It’s something entirely warm and welcome, however. A big something that blooms hot and cold in his chest.)

“I get it. I tried the same thing last year in university. Didn’t work out so well.”

Marinette hums thoughtfully, quietly ignoring the sharp spike of jealousy that lances through her at the thought of her cat pursuing someone else. That would be selfish of her to indulge in the feeling.

“So about that pinky promise…it’s not like…it’s not like I can legally marry you as a hero? I mean, what would it say on the marriage documents?” She asks matter of factly, pausing to take a sip of her warm wine.

“What? You don’t like the sound of Madame Marinette Dupain-Cheng-Chat-Noir?”

She practically collapses into herself, doubling over as she tries not to spray wine all over his nice black suit.

(Speaking of mouthfulls…)

She quickly swallows what she can and spews out a thoroughly loud WHAT beyond her cackling.

She tries to control it with more sips of wine, but the her smile still curls broadly over her cheeks and she’s snorting now

His laughter bubbles over to join hers, and he’s partly drunk and partly stupid with humor when he says-

“Well, not to worry, Princess. You’ll take the last name Agreste, if you want.”

This time he doesn’t avoid the decidedly ridiculous spray of wine she spits out in surprise.


End file.
